Chapter 4: Drought

 

The Hive is in chaos. It’s a measured sort of panic, residents running up and down the staircases clutching buckets, bottles, anything and everything that could hold some quantity of water. The urgency in Tyler’s voice surely meant that something was wrong, something close to an emergency. He wouldn’t have woken Jarod himself under any other circumstance. The guy’s never even been anywhere near their apartment.

Yet here he is, leading the way down the stairs, earning his keep as the Hive’s best by easily outpacing both Jarod and Gabriel as he runs. To be fair, they didn’t really have enough time to pull on clothes. Jarod’s still zipping up as he goes, and in the hurry Gabriel had to step out barefoot, the perils of oversleeping. But this is hardly the time to be worrying about who runs faster, or who’s wearing what, because they’ve just made it to the backlot and – well, things aren’t going great.

There’s a gaggle of people at the riverbank, as organized as a mob will ever get as men, women, even children scoop whatever containers they can find into the river. But they’re bending especially low, some even wading in just to reach the water. Almost as if the water level has dipped.

Jarod’s heart pinches. Fuck. That’s exactly what happened. The water’s gone low. It was waist deep just last night, the way it’s supposed to be every day, no matter the time. Daniel’s in the river, filling buckets and passing them back to the residents clamoring for water. His pants are rolled up to his knees, which is where the water line stops. What the hell is going on?

“Holy shit,” Jarod mutters.

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “Exactly.”

“We were just out here last night,” Gabriel says. “Bathing.”

Tyler steals a glance at Jarod, then wrinkles his nose. Jarod ignores him.

“The water was right here.” Gabriel places his hand somewhere around his navel, like he’s gauging the height. “Just last night, it was right here.”

“Keep the line moving,” Magpie shouts, gesticulating at a gaggle of her engineers. Her cheeks are flushed, no doubt from frustration. There’s no chance, or even any point to finishing the reservoir she was planning now. With the water dwindling like it is, it’s going to take a hell of a lot of digging to get anywhere.

The engineers pass buckets to each other, like a fireman’s chain going all the way into the atrium, no doubt into barrels and tanks set aside in the pantry, or, god forbid, the long dried-up mall fountain sitting in the center of the courtyard. Maybe that’s not such a terrible idea. Who knows when the water will come back? Who knows if it’ll come back at all?

Jarod scratches at his throat, then licks his lips. He isn’t even that thirsty, but his mouth feels so parched, as if the mere knowledge that the water is running out is draining the moisture and the strength right out of him. Something sharp rises in his throat, something like anxiety. It’s almost noon. Somehow the sun seems to be burning so much hotter.

Magpie shakes her head as she approaches, the tight curls of her hair bounding with each movement, sending up little tremors. They continue to move even when she comes to a stop, as if responding to some twitching tic from inside of her. Jarod doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but that’s how it seems. It looks – could it be that Magpie’s nervous, for once?

“We’re fucked,” she announces, wiping the back of one hand across her brow. “This is our only drinking source for miles around, and if it really dries up then we’ve got nothing left to survive on. Why didn’t I think ahead?” She curses under her breath, tapping a foot, shaking her head.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Esther says, joining the huddle. “We couldn’t have predicted anything like this happening.”

Magpie raises her eyes, deep and hot as coals. “But we should have.”

Esther makes a sharp, decisive nod, the kind of gesture Jarod knows is meant to end the conversation, and not to foster an argument. “You’re right. But there’s nothing we can do about that now. No sense dwelling on what’s done, or what wasn’t as the case may be.”

“We have to get out there, is what needs to be done,” Jarod says. “We need to see what’s happening upriver.”

Tyler scoffs. “No shit, Samuels. You think of that all by yourself?”

The heat rises in the back of Jarod’s neck. After everything they’ve been through, Torres is still the same. He clenches his fist, but just as quickly Gabriel’s hand lands on his arm, like he knows he needs to defuse the situation.

“Torres, please,” Gabriel says. “Honestly. Not the time or place.”

Tyler almost shrinks away at that, the hardness in his face guttering out like an extinguished candle. It really is that easy for Gabriel, isn’t it? Maybe that’s just part of why they’re meant to be together, with one supporting the other. Symbiosis. But for now, greater concerns.

“Anderson is right,” Esther says. “Right now we need to figure out the source of the problem.” She fixes them with even stares. “You three, find out what’s happening. Find out how far this goes, and if we can send out teams to collect water.”

Tyler kicks at the ground. “Great. Now we have to collect water, too.”

Esther shakes her head. “It’s what we have to do to survive. You find where the water ends, we’ll send scavs with you to draw water. As many as you need. For now, go upriver.”

Jarod turns to meet Gabriel’s eyes, already sure he’ll find uncertainty there. Upriver. That’s where the flare came from. That’s where it was fired. But they checked weeks ago, the very day after the flare was sighted, then a week after that. Other teams had gone to look, too.

“There was nothing there,” Gabriel says. “No one.”

“Things change,” Esther says. “If someone is moving in to rescue us, they’ll have some kind of impact on the environment. Say it’s the military and they’ve decided to set up camp upriver. That could be causing it.”

Tyler snorts. “Pretty optimistic, if you ask me.”

“Torres,” Gabriel says. “Please.”

And just in time, Jarod notes, as he spots Daniel wading out of the river and heading for their group, his feet leaving wet prints in the cement of the backlot. His face is pale, and it’s not from exertion or the heat out here, that much Jarod knows.

“We’re fucked,” Daniel says.

Magpie shrugs. “I said that already.”

“We’re going to find out what happened,” Tyler says, his voice almost changed, his demeanor different, like he’s putting on more positive airs for Daniel’s sake.

“I’ll come, too,” Daniel says. “Magpie worked so hard to get this garden going, and now this? I need to know what happened.”

“You’ll find out when we come back,” Tyler says, the corner of his mouth twitching, something in the gray of his eyes darkening. His hand goes to grasp Daniel by the upper arm, but lightly. “You’ll stay here, where it’s safe.”

“I’m coming.”

“No,” Tyler says, with an immediacy that makes that short word come out in a snarl. Gabriel walks up to him and places a hand on his arm, the latest link in a daisy chain of suppression and comfort that doesn’t seem to be working.

“Keep it down,” Gabriel mutters, still loud enough for Jarod to hear. “Look around you.”

And that they do, at the flurry of panic around them, at the men and women of the Hive doing what they can to save what’s left of the dwindling water supply. But what strikes Jarod isn’t the bustle of movement swirling in the backlot and by the river, but the few pinpoints of stillness standing here and there.

The children. Only a few of them down here, maybe accompanying their parents while they go about their morning ablutions, or dropping by the river to wash grubby hands or faces before they head up to the playground on the rooftop. But there are enough of them still to see, and to hear, whether with fingers in their mouths, or worried looks on their faces. And in each face Jarod spots traces of something more than worry, something the grownups of the Hive have long worked to protect the children from: fear.

But more than that, Jarod notices something else in the crowd, something he’s almost sure none of the others have sighted. Here and there two women about Esther’s size and shape are melded with the mayhem, darting about as they carry buckets of water. Their clothes are different, at least, and one is wearing a cap, and the other a hooded jacket drawn up over her hair, but to Jarod, it’s unmistakeable. Esther sent out her clones to help. He chews on his lip. A dangerous choice.

“Anderson’s right,” Esther says. “Keep your voices down. No sense adding more to this.”

Magpie throws her hands up. “I’m going to do something useful.” She turns smartly on her heel, barking orders at the engineers as she launches herself at the nearest spare bucket.

“And we’re going to check out the river,” Tyler says.

“I’m coming with,” Daniel says, stubborn as ever.

The corners of Tyler’s eyes crease, but he purses his lips like he’s swallowing the first salvo of words that are trying to escape from his mouth. He rubs at his temples, and when he speaks, it’s with calculated softness.

“I’ll tell you everything we learn,” he says. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Esther takes Daniel’s hand in hers, her expression suddenly softened, motherly. “You’ll be more useful here, Norwood. I know you can fight, but Torres is only worried for your safety. He’s just too stupid to phrase that properly. Isn’t that right, Torres?”

She looks up at the hunter, and Jarod can’t tell whether it’s the sunlight glinting off her glasses, but something sinister seems to spark up from her eyes. Tyler’s shoe scuffs against the ground as he takes a step back. A small one, but it’s still a retreat, or at least a concession.

“Yeah. Totally, Danny. That’s what I meant.”

Daniel looks between them, then sighs laboriously. He loops his fingers around Tyler’s wrist. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” Tyler nods. Daniel gives him a last lingering look, then nods at Jarod and Gabriel, as if silently asking them to watch over Tyler. Jarod nods back, as if to say “We’ll take care of him.” Like Tyler would ever need their help.

Daniel heads back to the river. Tyler looks out after him, his eyes following until he’s sure Daniel’s waded back into the water. He nods, as if to himself. “I’m gonna go pick up my weapon,” he says, eyes still focused on Daniel’s back. The guy’s smitten, Jarod thinks. It could almost be cute, if Tyler wasn’t such an asshole. “The two of you should do the same. Especially you, Jarod. You need all the help you can get.”

Yep. Definitely still an asshole.

“I’ll meet you up top,” Tyler says, breaking into a sprint. He means the top of the barricades, where they always gather before they go off on a hunt.

Gabriel touches his fingers lightly to the back of Jarod’s hand. “Same,” he says. “I still need to get dressed. You should come, too.”

“Are you sure you can do this? With your injury and everything? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gabriel says. “The Hive needs all the help it can get. Now come on.”

Jarod nods. “In a while. You go ahead. Just need to talk to Esther about something.”

Gabriel’s gaze flits between them briefly, but if there’s any suspicion in his eyes, he hides it well. “Okay. See you up top.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Esther’s arms press up against her bosom as she folds them together.

“Don’t you think that’s a little, uh, risky?” Jarod scratches the side of his nose. “Having the both of them out like that?”

It’s weird, being privy to such a huge secret as this. It was only recently that Jarod discovered Esther’s true nature: that she was an anomaly, a person gifted with unusual powers. Hers, specifically, is to split herself into three independent copies. It was especially jarring to Jarod since he worked with two of those copies, then met another in the time before the Paragon outbreak. Of course, as unusual as Esther’s power is, little can compare to the strangeness of the dead coming back to life.

“Wouldn’t it be riskier not to have them out at all? Two pairs of hands are better than nothing, Samuels.”

“But really. A cap, and a hoodie? Aren’t you worried anyone will find out?”

Esther snorts. “Only reason you noticed is because you know where they’re from. To everyone else that’s just a couple of people from somewhere around the mall. Look around you. Nobody cares about who’s helping. All that matters is that the helping is happening at all.”

Jarod scratches at his scalp. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Esther lifts her nose. “And speaking of helping, you best get going. The Hive needs you now more than ever.”

He nods, taking a step towards the atrium when Esther lays one soft hand on his arm. He stops, just for a moment, perplexed. “Was there anything else?”

Esther’s eyes are oddly hollow when she looks at him again, something like concern etched in her jowls. “Stay alive, Samuels.”